


The Promised Knight

by Robin_CorrBy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Creampie, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Drunk Sex, Female Ejaculation, Hair-pulling, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_CorrBy/pseuds/Robin_CorrBy
Summary: Ingrid is betrothed to Felix to secure an alliance between Galatea and Fraldarius.  Distraught, she invites Sylvain to her room one night to distract herself from the multitude of stressors weighing on her.  Things begin to go awry when Sylvain introduces alcohol into the equation and Felix finds out about their night-in.  This story fits into the game canon, between chapters 15 (Valley of Torment) and 16 (The Rose-Colored River) of Azure Moon, after the five year time-skip.  However, Ingrid retains her pre-skip hairstyle.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 18





	The Promised Knight

**The Promised Knight**

_Ingrid yelped as it pierced her. A sharp pain snapped at her at the point of entry, coursing through her veins and resonating throughout her body. Drops of blood spilled from her, though not at a volume she had expected as to be commensurate with her pain. She was unsure if she could continue on like this. Yet, if she were the knight she believed herself to be, she would have to endure. She could not let herself be defeated by these men. Despite her suffering, she continued fighting._

Ever since returning to Garreg Mach, all Ingrid Brandl Galatea wanted was a moment of relaxation. The first few weeks she and her former Blue Lions had spent there had been nothing short of a whirlwind, physically and emotionally. Despite reports of his execution in Fhirdiad, Dimitri – or what was left of him – was alive. On learning this, she had sworn fealty to the king-in-exile’s cause, even though his sulking and his rage seemed to cloud his judgment at present. So too had the Professor, who had been presumed dead since the monastery’s sack five years prior, though she displayed much the same wisdom and grace Ingrid had come to expect from her while under her tutelage at the Officer’s Academy. She brought with her the support of the Knights of Seiros, whose search for Archbishop Rhea would necessitate many of the same steps as Dimitri’s restoration.

The Adrestian Empire had already identified their position and launched another assault on the monastery. Despite their numbers, Ingrid and her friends had deftly repelled its forces, resulting in the death of General Randolph von Bergliez. Ingrid dismayed at the thought of how the news of Randolph’s death would affect her former friend Caspar, though the thought of facing him on the battlefield caused her even greater despair. Still, she knew that she would feel no remorse for the traitorous Emperor Edelgard should her spear pierce the bitch’s heart during the Kingdom’s inevitable campaign to Enbarr.

Recognizing the need for more forces should they hope to maintain a base of operations at Garreg Mach while launching an offensive against Edelgard and her puppet in West Faerghus (the pretender Cornelia), the former Blue Lions had sought the aid of Lord Rodrigue Fraldarius, who had been spearheading resistance in the Kingdom alongside Margrave Gautier. They had rendezvoused in the volcanic Valley of Torment, where they staved off an attack from the turncoats of House Rowe. With victory achieved, Dimitri had reclaimed the lance Areadbhar for House Blaiddyd, and Lord Rodrigue had joined his host with their own, leaving Fraldarius under the protection of his brother. But the tension between the two leaders was high at the moment; Rodrigue favored first reuniting Faerghus by going after Cornelia, while Dimitri saw no other path than the one forged by his wicked stepsister Edelgard’s immediate death.

Thoughts of the past few weeks threatened to overwhelm Ingird as she stared at her reflection at her vanity, which by some miracle had gone unharmed in the bandit raids on the monastery over the past five years. She removed her heavy breastplate, hoping to similarly relax the weight of her emotions by taking her mind off the tumultuous circumstances forcing her to don it. The white button-up shirt and turquoise skirt she wore underneath were not entirely comfortable, but she nonetheless appreciated what the ensemble did for her figure. She retrieved her brush from the drawer at her right leg, running it through the long, blonde locks of hair that drooped neatly over her back and forehead. The crunching sound of the brush and the feeling of forgotten knots coming undone brought with it a crisp sense of satisfaction for Ingrid. Moreover, indulging in a moment of personal grooming proved incredibly therapeutic; the war had so frequently necessitated self-neglect from the people of Faerghus (especially for Dimitri), making opportunities for attending to these personal needs all the more precious.

No more than five minutes had passed after Ingrid finished brushing and re-braiding her hair when an expected knock sounded at her door. She arose from her vanity to open it, revealing the soft face and fiery hair of her friend, Sylvain Jose Gautier. His smile on seeing her was instantly contagious; she was beyond eager just to talk to him. He maneuvered his tall, slender frame through the short doorway, and Ingrid quickly embraced him. He towered over her, but she felt safe in his arms regardless. However, she could not help but feel the sensation of cold glass pressing against her back. The feeling was instantly uncomfortable; she broke off the hug and observed the bottles Sylvain had in his hands.

“Alcohol, Sylvain?” she asked disapprovingly. It was such a characteristic move for him. Even amidst all the tension brought on by the death and destruction of the war, and even though Ingrid had been more than explicit that his visit was under no circumstances a date, he could not help but to womanize. Surely he could not think her daft enough as to indulge him in a round of drinks before letting him into her bed! Ingrid nearly vomited at the thought of all the poor women on which Sylvain must have employed this feeble and deplorable tactic prior to her.

“I lifted it from Manuela’s room; I thought we both might could use a drink to forget about all the bickering between King Mopes-a-Lot and Lord Peach Fuzz,” Sylvain retorted. “Besides, Manuela won’t be around for the next two weeks while she follows her ‘lead’ on Rhea’s whereabouts; she’ll never even know that it was gone!”

Ingrid stopped to consider Sylvain’s argument. His intentions sounded genuine, but that was his gift in flirting. Still, there was so much on her mind, and Dimitri and Rodrigue’s fighting was the least of it. Perhaps the war had made her too mistrusting; Sylvain was a childhood friend and would never allow harm to come to her. And a drink or two certainly would not hurt.

“Very well,” Ingrid conceded, “but do not get the impression that this is anything more than a conversation between friends.”

“I knew you’d listen to reason,” Sylvain chuckled. He fetched the pair some glasses, uncorked the bottle, and poured them both some wine. Ingrid received hers graciously and took her first sip. She had no knowledge of how to differentiate between good and bad wine, but the liquid she drank was sweet regardless. Somehow, that was all that mattered.

Ingrid talked to Sylvain for what must have been hours; what had begun as an evening reacquaintance had evolved into a nighttime trip down memory lane.

“Do you remember when Felix climbed that really tall tree and couldn’t get down?” Sylvain snorted, prompting Ingrid to cackle loudly in a way that was amplified by her own drunkenness. “And then he was so angry with us he wet himself!” Sylvain continued, only heightening the hysterical laughter between them. “I don’t think he would have ever gotten down if it weren’t for…” Sylvain tailed off. Ingrid’s mirth vanished, replaced by a somber seriousness uncharacteristic of a woman of her current level of sobriety.

“If it weren’t for Glenn catching him,” she finished. She shuddered and shed a tear at the thought of her former betrothed, lost in the Tragedy of Duscur a decade prior. She was only 13 at the time, but Glenn represented everything she knew about love. She could never fully forgive the people of Duscur for the incident, and she still had difficulty expressing sympathy over the death of Dimitri’s advisor Dedue, who hailed from the area. On Glenn’s death, his ideals became her own, and she had sworn to become a knight with the strength to protect everyone she held dear.

“Ingrid, I’m sorry…” said Sylvain, in a tone that conveyed that he had no intention of bringing up such a sore subject with his friend.

“It’s okay, Sylvain,” Ingrid started, “I know you didn’t mean to upset me.” She beckoned him from his position at her desk to her bed, where she sat upright against the headboard. He obliged, positioning himself next to her and extending his arm behind her head to her opposite shoulder. She rested her head gently against his chest and sighed before speaking again.

“There’s something else you should know,” Ingrid spoke nervously. “Lord Rodrigue, he…he had terms for joining his army with ours.”

“Terms?” Sylvain asked, utterly perplexed by Ingrid’s words.

“As you know, he had to entrust Fraldarius to his brother,” Ingrid continued. “But this alone would not provide the region with the security it needs.” She paused again.

“And?” Sylvain asked, still puzzled at what Ingrid was trying to say.

“And Galatea, well, it could provide Fraldarius with the additional manpower it needs to protect itself. And Galatea could itself benefit from the bountiful harvest of the more fertile land in Fraldarius. That is to say, all the reasons compelling my betrothal to Glenn still exist today. Rodrigue came with a letter from my father and…”

“You and Felix are to be married?” Sylvain asked, finally realizing what was troubling Ingrid.

“Within the year,” she confirmed, her face betraying her fear over the arrangement.

“Do you love him?” Sylvain asked, seemingly without thinking.

“He has always been dear to me,” Ingrid began, “but so have you! What of my choice? Why does my sex confer upon me the status of a mere pawn in the great game of Fódlan’s future? Would I not be more valuable to the Kingdom on the back of my pegasus than on my own back satisfying husbands and spitting out children?” She angered further with every word she spoke, and she was bawling before she knew it.

“I don’t know what to say…” Sylvain spoke softly as she clung to him tightly. He ran one hand through her hair and used the other to wipe away her tears. Five minutes passed before she could bring herself to speak intelligibly again.

“Sylvain, I want to make a choice tonight, while I still can,” she said, resolutely. “I want to make love to you. I know I shouldn’t, and I know that it may ruin everything for which we have worked so hard in the territories of Faerghus. But this is my choice, and it is mine alone. So now you have a choice, old friend – will you lay with me, as you have with so many women before? Will you make me another of your conquests so that I may once decide something for myself as a woman?”

“Ingrid…you could never be ‘another conquest.’ You’re _you_ – the most special woman I have ever met, my friend since childhood, grown stronger and more elegant every day since,” Sylvain confessed in an unmistakably genuine tone.

“If that is the case, then will you take me as your lover? Will you adore me as the impossible woman of which you speak?” Ingrid asked as she repositioned herself on her knees on top of Sylvain, whom she forced on his back.

Rather than hazard a response, Sylvain simply drew Ingrid to him and kissed her passionately. She responded in kind, connecting her lips with his once, then twice, then a third time until they were inseparable. She bit his lower lip gently, caressing his cheek with her left hand. She pulled away and re-engaged, opening her mouth slightly such that her tongue could meet his. She reached down for the top button of his white shirt and unfastened it, repeating the process down his torso until every one was undone. She propped him up and slid the shirt off, throwing it on the floor beside them before returning Sylvain to his back. She kissed the man’s neck and chest, running one hand through the auburn waves of his hair and the other along his shoulder.

Ingrid watched as Sylvain’s hands darted to her bosom, unfastening the buttons that held her own shirt together. She situated herself upright, grabbing at the collar underneath the sleeves while Sylvain reached to untuck the bottom of the garment from her short skirt.

Ingrid had very nearly gotten the thing off when the door opened, revealing the face of one Felix Hugo Fraldarius. Felix looked on in shock at the situation that was transpiring before him, as Ingrid scrambled to rebutton her shirt and Sylvain stretched for his own.

“Friends since childhood, and this is how you repay me?” Felix asked with an anger slightly above that of his normal tone.

Ingrid nearly started to apologize, but quickly realized that his ire was not directed at her. She retreated to a corner as Felix grabbed Sylvain by the collar of his half-replaced shirt and threw him to the ground.

“As though it weren’t enough to sleep with everything else with breasts in Fódlan, you also just had to have my betrothed!” Felix scorned, Sylvain still reeling from his impact with the hard floor.

Felix reached down and grabbed Sylvain from the floor again, this time by the center of shirt, lifting him up with all his might in spite of their size difference and delivering a right hook square to Sylvain’s cheek. Felix let go, and Sylvain collapsed on the ground once more from the force of gravity.

Ingrid watched in horror as Sylvain struggled to get up, only to have Felix grab him by his collar once more, dragging him behind him out of the room.

“Felix, what are you doing?” she questioned in a panic, trying her best to regain her wits in spite of her intoxication. She scrambled off the bed; she was sick to her stomach, but she had to do whatever she could to ensure the safety of the two men. She continued to refasten the buttons on her shirt as she raced out into the hallway, only to find Sylvain’s injured form being dragged like a ragdoll down the stairs and out into the courtyard. Ingrid had to stop periodically to clench her gut and establish her bearing, allowing Felix to stay several steps ahead of her as he towed Sylvain past the commoner dormitory. She had nearly caught up to them when Felix swung the large wooden doors to the training grounds open.

Ingrid watched as Felix dropped Sylvain near the center of the grounds, then diverted his attention to the nearby weapon rack. He slammed the Lance of Ruin to the ground from its upright position on the rack and kicked it in Sylvain’s direction. It connected with his outstretched hand, which he used to gain a feeble grip on the relic as he tried his best to stand up. Meanwhile, Felix retrieved his trusty silver sword and Aegis Shield from the same rack, walking out to face Sylvain, who was finally back on his feet. 

“You thought you could bed my whore of a bride without me finding out, huh?” Felix began, standing not five paces from the man he once called friend. “Foolish. Now you will have to claim her over my corpse, or I yours!”

“Felix, cease this madness!” Ingrid protested. “Neither of you should die such a senseless death!”

“Stay out of this, Ingrid,” Sylvain retorted, to Ingrid’s shock. “Felix, I accept your terms. A battle to the death for Ingrid’s heart and hand in marriage!”

“Very well,” Felix replied coolly. “ _En garde_!” With that, he charged at Sylvain, guarding his core with Aegis while attempting a downward strike at Sylvain’s chest. Sylvain intercepted the blow with the center of his lance, the momentum of which he parlayed into an upward strike at Felix’s shoulder, tearing his clothes and gashing his skin. Felix grimaced, but that did not stop him from bashing the lance away with his shield. This enabled him to land a quick horizontal slice at Sylvain’s leg, further incapacitating his already impaired balance and causing him to fall to a knee. 

Ingrid watched in horror as the events unfolded. She knew she had to diffuse the situation somehow, but neither of the men seemed to be in a state as to be swayed by reason. Felix did not seem content with the damage he had done thus far, loosing a flurry of strikes in an attempt to capitalize on Sylvain’s loss of balance. Sylvain parried them with remarkable consistency, but he remained on the defensive. Any slash or jab Felix attempted could prove fatal if he lost concentration, but avoiding this became increasingly difficult with each subsequent attack.

Felix’s fury made him relentless, and Sylvain’s luck in blocking his offensive seemed to only enrage him further. This in turn caused him to deviate further from his training; his disciplined blows steadily devolved into flailing akin to a child with a stick. Finally, he leapt into the air, positioning the sword downward as to pierce down into Sylvain’s skull. But Sylvain acted quickly, spearing the sword out of his hands before driving Felix into the ground on his back. Somehow, Sylvain was now holding Felix at lance-point.

“Do it, Sylvain!” Felix shouted through his exasperation. “End me and House Fraldarius! Let me die as meaningless of a death as my brother! It’s what you want!”

Sylvain appeared to stop for a second to consider Felix’s words, but he must not have been fazed. He raised the Lance of Ruin above his head, striking with all his might at Felix’s heart.

“Enough!” Ingrid shouted, blocking Sylvain’s blow with her own relic, Lúin, and casting the Lance of Ruin aside. All at once, she took in the confusion on Sylvain’s face, the fear in Felix’s eyes, and the frequency of her heartbeat, which had kicked into overdrive as she intervened. In spite of this, she spoke with an authority that captured the attention of the two scared men. “If my affection is something that must be decided by dealing or dueling rather than my own free will, I would much prefer it be through the latter. So, I am proposing new terms to your preposterous arrangement, which I think you will find to do wonders for your lifespans and your more primal needs. Both of you return to my room. There, I will attend to each and every one of your primal desires. You will each attempt to sow your seed in me, and whosoever claims my womb shall also claim my hand in marriage.”

“How ever would we know who impregnated you?” Sylvain asked, intrigued by the possibility.

“By the crest the babe bears. Should the child have a Crest of Fraldarius, we shall know it to be Felix’s. If it possesses the Crest of Gautier, we shall know that it is yours.”

“And if it inherits your Crest of Daphnel?” Felix questioned, expressing equal curiosity.

“Then we shall assume that it is yours,” Ingrid responded, knowing the importance of a crest-bearing child to the relationship between Fraldarius and Galatea. “Just as we shall assume the babe to be Sylvain’s should it be born without a crest.”

“And you are, ‘equipped,’ at present, to bear a child?” Sylvain replied.

“Yes, Sylvain; I last bled nine days ago, and my body is nothing if not consistent. Do you consent to my conditions?”

“Absolutely,” Sylvain chirped. His bloodlust paled in comparison to his lust for women.

“Why should I consent when you are already promised to me?” Felix asked.

“Because I saved your life,” Ingrid retorted. “And because I can guarantee that you will never have me for any reason but procreation should you decline.”

“You’re insufferable,” Felix snickered in dejection. “Fine, I agree to your terms.”

“Thank you both for seeing reason,” Ingrid started. “Let us hasten back to my room lest our friends discover what has happened here.”

As a sign of good faith, Ingrid returned Lúin to the nearby weapon rack. Sylvain reached his hand out to help Felix up from the ground; Felix smacked it away and returned to his feet under his own power. They followed Ingrid to the weapon rack and returned their own armaments to their designated stands.

In what felt like an instant, they were back in Ingrid’s room. They all stood awkwardly in silence for a few seconds while Ingrid faced away from the men, breathing deeply and steeling herself for the events to come. She turned to face them, and, with a resolution befitting a knight, she reached to grab a hand from each of them and pulled them to close to her. She leaned in and kissed Felix first; she needed to earn his trust with greater urgency than Sylvain’s. She ran her fingers through the deep purple locks of his hair before pulling away, her gaze meeting Felix’s as she opened her eyes. His stare was simultaneously piercing and disarming, providing a window into his deeper pains that mirrored her own. For all his edges, he was no less irresistible, and he would be an admirable father to her children.

But then there was Sylvain, who commanded her attention in the form of a kiss in the moments thereafter. His outlook was so much more carefree; he lived for the mortal pleasures, and he rarely appeared more comfortable than when he was attempting to seduce every woman he encountered. But this was in some sense a defense mechanism, helping him mitigate the pain of losing his brother Miklan five years ago. He resented his father for driving Miklan out due to his lack of a crest, but his brother’s attempts at retribution were equally unconscionable. He had confided in Ingrid about this when they were at the Academy, as she had confided in him with regard to Glenn. This allowed her to see past his womanizing; he was her closest friend and would be equally deserving of her love. She was confident that he would commit exclusively to her should they marry and would adore any babe he sired with her.

She returned to Felix, removing his overcoat to reveal the emerald turtleneck he wore underneath. She reached for the bottom of the thing, lifting it up over his neck to expose his clean, muscular chest. She kissed between his pecs, then his collarbone, then his neck, finally returning to his soft lips. Then she returned to Sylvain, ripping open his tattered shirt and finding the same places on his body to kiss.

“Lose the boots, Felix,” she said between kisses. Felix obliged, removing the tall boots from his feet and setting them by the door. When he returned, Ingrid dropped to her knees, loosening Felix’s breeches before pulling them down his legs. He stepped out of them, leaving only the form-fitting undergarments that ran halfway down his thigh. His member bulged against them, which Ingrid kissed gently through the fabric. She moved up to kiss the bottom of his stomach as she pulled down the undergarments. His cock sprung up from the potential energy amassed as Ingrid freed it from its prison. Ingrid narrowly evaded being struck by it. She took him into her mouth, first lubricating his head before making her way down his shaft. She bobbed at the thing with vigor, fitting three-quarters of it in her mouth before her gag reflex demanded that she let go. On subsequent passes, she resolved to ignore it, managing to fit the entirety of Felix’s shaft in her mouth accompanied by sounds of gagging. She stayed there for a moment before letting go of him once more, substituting her hand for the motions she had been making with her mouth.

“A little help, Sylvain?” she said, nodding her head at the coverings he still wore.

“Of course, milady!” Sylvain responded, nearly having his breeches and undergarments removed by the time he had finished his sentence. His cock was larger than Felix’s (which itself was rather sizeable), representing an even greater challenge for Ingrid. She took it into her mouth as she continued to stroke Felix, wetting it with her slobber. She practiced with a few smaller bobs, then took in the whole thing. It was incredibly difficult, nearly causing her to choke on the girth of the thing, but she managed to connect her lips to Sylvain’s burning bush nonetheless. She shed a few tears before coming back for air, a long string of spittle still connecting her to Sylvain’s member. She sucked it back in and smiled at the look of ecstasy already emerging from Sylvain’s face.

Ingrid moved her attention back to Felix, grabbing his hips and ass as she slid up and down his cock with her mouth. Then she returned to Sylvain, performing much the same motions along his gargantuan shaft. She repeated this alternating pattern for several cycles, taking pains to ensure that neither of the men was left unoccupied for too long. When this process became taxing, she devised a plan to conserve her energy. She pushed the men closer together, then took both of their cocks into her mouth at the same time. It was a tight fit, but it let her focus on a single action, which eased her task. She grabbed a buttock from each of them, taking the two cocks as far into her mouth as her body would allow. She was not able to make it as far down either of them together as she had individually, but she choked and cried all the same. She came back up and settled into a rhythm, keeping both the men entertained at a quick but not frantic pace. She stared longingly up at them from her knees, admiring the enjoyment in their eyes as a function of her handiwork. She could only imagine the pleasure they must also have been getting from their wet cocks rubbing against each other inside her mouth; she could not help but wonder what sort of pleasures they might have derived from each other’s bodies without her as an intermediary!

After a few minutes of this configuration, Ingrid could tell that Felix and Sylvain were growing impatient with mere oral pleasure. As Ingrid was receiving no physical pleasure from the arrangement, she was more than happy to transition to something that focused a little more on her. She rose to her feet and kissed each of the men once. Then, as though part of some unwritten pact, they began touching various parts of her and set to freeing her from her clothes. Sylvain unbuttoned her shirt while Felix pulled down her skirt, revealing the lacy blue brassiere and underwear that conformed to every curve of her body. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror atop her vanity; she took in every bit of how beautiful she truly was, needing no makeup to exceed all her peers in womanly elegance. She had barely had the chance to fully appreciate herself when the pleasure of the two men kissing her neck coursed through her. She was dumbfounded at how sensual the experience was, but she succumbed to it all the same. 

The men nibbled Ingrid’s ear, softly kissed her cheeks and shoulders, and caressed her arms and hips. Ingrid rarely allowed herself this level of intimacy; that she was opening herself up to two men simultaneously was at once terrifying and exhilarating. She could feel Sylvain untying her soft brassiere, so she reached her arms to the sky to allow him to remove it. Judging by the look on Felix’s face when he saw her breasts fall out, Ingrid reckoned they must have been appealing.

“Ingrid, you’ve been hiding those this whole time?” Sylvain spoke as he maneuvered around her to get a look at them.

“Apparently so,” Ingrid said with a shyness that failed to recognize the proportionately large breasts protruding from her chest.

Sylvain and Felix adored them eagerly, lightly sliding their fingers over her curves before circling them around her nipples, which were already erect from the cool of her near-nudity. They bent down to copy these motions with their tongues, which sent Ingrid into an ecstatic frenzy. She closed her eyes to take in the immense pleasure of the two beautiful men rhythmically syncing to suck her nipples. She held their heads close to her; she could not bear to have them stop anytime soon. If everything went to plan, one of these men would soon cause them to fill up with milk, which she could later use to tenderly nurse the noble babe she birthed. But that was many moons away, and she needed to focus on appreciating the surreal experience before her.

Before long, Ingrid’s underwear had become uncomfortably wet from her body’s desires. She grabbed Felix’s shoulder and gently pushed him down to her waist. Felix seemed to understand, kissing her hip before stripping her of the final garment. She wore a trimmed bush above her womanhood, of a somewhat darker blonde than the golden locks gracing her head. Felix kissed the mound where it rested, shifting his hands from her hips to her buttocks as he did so. 

Ingrid knew where this was leading, and she knew that she would enjoy it more on her back. She beckoned the men to her bed, lying flat on her back and spreading her legs wide to receive the men’s tongues. They responded appropriately, with Sylvain opting for her clitoris and Felix focusing on her hole. It started out cold and uncomfortable, but she acclimated to the feeling quickly, paving the way for the most concentrated pleasure she had experienced thus far. Her brain had difficulty registering the multitude of sensations the numerous nerve endings were trying to send. She could only jerk randomly back and forth as the waves of pleasure bombarded her with no signs of relenting. She wrapped her legs around their heads to keep them in place, but it was too intense; she needed the stimulation spread across a greater area of her body. She tugged at Sylvain and brought him to her face, fighting to kiss him while Felix shifted his attention to her clitoris. She returned Sylvain to her breasts, and he took one in his mouth and the other in his hand. After a few moments of massaging her breast, Sylvain detoured to other parts of Ingrid’s body, running his fingertips and the back of his hand through her cheek, shoulder, stomach, hip, leg, and foot, before finally settling on her inner thigh. Felix retracted his tongue to kiss the opposite thigh, then backed away until he was off the bed.

“Felix?” Ingrid asked, only a second before his intention became clear to her. He slid his index and middle fingers inside her, moving in and out while Sylvain continued to adore the rest of her exquisite form on the bed. Ingrid awed at the difference between clitoral and penetrative pleasure; the former was intense and gratifying, while the latter was wholly intimate and filling. However, these feelings converged somewhat when Felix changed his pattern, keeping his fingers inside her while performing an up-down motion against her inner wall. She supposed that this pleasure was unique to the act of fingering, and she thirsted for it to continue.

When she finally found a break enough in the intensity to open her eyes, she realized Felix was lifting her off the bed and into the air. Sylvain had gotten off the bed and was stabilizing her, while Felix continued to attack the inside of her pussy with his fingers. Then Felix changed his pattern once again, flattening out his fingers and vibrating them inside her as fast as physics would allow. This caught her off-guard – it was incredibly pleasurable, but it also made her feel as though she needed to urinate. She let go of something inside her, but it was not urine. Some gland down there had let loose a small stream of salty liquid, which she squirted all over Felix’s hands and onto the floor below her. The act embarrassed her, but she was too preoccupied to express it. Felix was still going hard at her pussy with his fingers, while Sylvain had kissed his way down her back only to stumble upon a new orifice. He began tonguing her asshole vigorously; it was not altogether pleasurable, but she was enjoying herself too much to care. Under different circumstances, she might have protested, but she attended to her rump with the same meticulousness with which she cleaned Lúin.

The men apparently grew tired of supporting her in this position after a few minutes of pussy-fingering and ass-licking, as they returned her to her bed on her knees. Sylvain remained standing; Ingrid rewarded his efforts by taking his long shaft into his mouth once more. Her big, green eyes met Sylvain’s as she sucked and stroked his cock, where Sylvain’s pleasure translated into Ingrid’s gratification. Her sexual confidence was growing by the minute, but nothing could have prepared her for what was to come.

Felix positioned himself on his knees at her rear, stroking his cock and wetting it with Ingrid’s desire. He aligned the head of his member with the opening to Ingrid’s womanhood, slowly beginning to slide himself inside her. Her lips found purchase around him, though the fit was tight. Still, she could feel him pressing forward, filling her up with the entire length and girth of his cock.

“Oh shit!” Ingrid moaned, momentarily giving up on Sylvain’s cock in front of her to exclaim it. Such language was atypical for her, but any goddess-fearing knight in her position would have sworn at the intensity of her pleasure. Surely Sothis, the progenitor deity, would understand the use of such colorful vocabulary in the ecstatic haze of the reproductive process! On this realization, she turned to Felix, who was doing her a kindness by thrusting slowly to acclimate her to proper intercourse. “Fuck me hard!” she exclaimed, keenly aware that this was what her body wanted.

Felix obliged, ramping up the frequency and force of his thrusts. Ingrid forced herself to wrap her lips around Sylvain’s cock despite the desire to scream, taking great pains to conceal her teeth. Felix’s thrusts sent Ingrid’s mouth flying down Sylvain’s shaft, allowing her only a short respite to pull back and breathe when Felix was on the backswing. She felt as though she were being skewered, only to be served to some cannibalistic tribe from Duscur. Still, she contented at the thought of her body functioning as a full-course meal for the two sexually ravenous men on either end of her. Felix slapped her ass as he pounded her, spurring her to move rhythmically backwards along his cock to simplify his motions. She supported her weight with her left arm, reaching her right hand back to fondle her breasts before aggressively rubbing her clit in a circular pattern.

Ingrid continued this active level of participation for several minutes, refusing to content in simply letting herself roast upon the spit. She filled the room with the sounds of her moans and gags, somehow managing to convey both at once. Accompanying these at her other end were the smacking sounds of her wet pussy and round ass cheeks bouncing against Felix’s cock. The room began to reek of sweat and the distinct smells of the men’s genitals and Ingrid’s nectar. A passerby would have detested the scent, but the raw sexuality of the pheromones underlying it only heightened Ingrid’s arousal.

Ingrid watched in her peripherals as Sylvain made his way to the other side of her, presumably to the right of Felix. She could feel Felix remove himself from her; she suddenly felt empty and in desperate need of resumed stimulation. However, she did not suffer in her withdrawal for long, as Sylvain inserted himself deep inside her. The sensation was at once painful and immensely satisfying. Sylvain’s long shaft managed to tickle something deep within her, and the point at which his head met his shaft on the underside was stroking it perfectly. She bent her head downward to catch a glimpse of the situation that was inspiring this symphony of sensation. She managed to look past her bouncing tits to see Sylvain burying his cock inside her time after time. She also noticed Felix stroking his own cock at the sight of it all.

Out of nowhere, Ingrid’s head snapped back up, passing the point on the wall at which her gaze had previously centered before settling on a diagonal view of the ceiling. Sylvain had grabbed her long, center braid, drawing her pussy so far down his shaft as to connect with his balls.

“Oh Goddess!” Ingrid screamed as she absorbed the rush of sensation pulsing from her core to her every extremity. “Fuck me like one of your common street whores!”

Sylvain complied, ramming Ingrid with a force exceeding any of those he or Felix had applied to her to that point. He tugged on her hair for additional leverage, propelling himself into her as though trying to damage her exquisite figure. He stabilized her by placing his right hand on her shoulder, which also increased his capacity to rail her by supplying additional force.

Ingrid noticed that Sylvain was breathing hard after expending so much energy to indulge her, so she motioned back with her hand to indicate that he could slow down. He either understood or was too winded to keep up the pace, as he decelerated into a gentler rhythm and shifted his hands to the point at which her hips met her ass. This hand-positioning did not last long, however, as he soon lifted his left hand to his face to suck his thumb. Ingrid was momentarily confused at this seemingly childish act, but his reasons became clear when the thumb penetrated her tight asshole. She had not thought it possible to feel fuller than she had when she was between their cocks, but this proved her wrong. She could perceive Sylvain’s cock and thumb rubbing against each other as he thrusted, separated by a small mass of internal tissue which she felt might break at any time. It held nonetheless, prompting Ingrid to unleash a series of guttural screams from the pleasure of it all.

Sylvain went on like this for a minute or two longer before winding himself completely. He tagged out, and Felix took Ingrid’s reins once more. They repeated the process once Felix tired, completing three cycles of alternation replete with hair-pulling and ass-fingering. Whenever one of the men was not insider of her, he would gently stroke his cock while marveling at the sight. Ingrid was amazed at her own stamina, wondering how far the group would have to go to fully satiate her sexual appetite.

Ingrid steadily grew tired of the passive role in which she was functioning, and she also became frustrated at being unable to feast her eyes on the two handsome men with whom she was sharing her bed. She straightened her upper body as she turned around to face them, reaching to embrace and kiss Felix before staring into his brown eyes as she held her hand to his cheek. Then she turned to Sylvain.

“You two were phenomenal,” she began in her deep, seductive voice, which had normalized somewhat from the shrill moans of intercourse. “Now it’s my turn.”

With that, Ingrid flung Sylvain to his back, his head landing neatly on her pillow. She crawled up his chiseled chest and lowered her pussy on Sylvain’s face. He inserted his tongue in response, stimulating her clit and helping her recoup some of the moisture she had lost from her hole. She scooted her body back and forth until she felt she had fully recovered from her previous pounding.

She backed up to Sylvain’s cock, grabbing it with one hand to guide it inside of her. She sat herself on it fully, taking in the pleasure of the completeness it provided. She rocked back and forth on his shaft in the same manner she had along his face, simultaneously stimulating her front inner wall and her clit from the friction of Sylvain’s skin. Supplementing this was Felix, who availed himself of every erogenous zone he could find on her form. He kissed her forehead through her bangs, detoured to each of her cheeks, then locked tongues with her in an impassioned kiss. He licked her neck, nibbled on her shoulders, then struggled to take in as much of her breast as possible. He finally settled on her nipple, swirling his tongue around it in a rhythm entirely synchronous with her own motions along Sylvain’s manhood.

“Oh Felix, suck my tits!” she commanded, albeit unnecessarily. He continued to attack them until Ingrid became overwhelmed by the teasing nature of it. She dropped her chest to meet Sylvain’s, kissing him and extending her rear into the air to allow Sylvain room to work. He responded appropriately, taking control of the affair despite his submissive position beneath her. She adored every second of it; the speed with which he was able to rail her was unparalleled. That it was coming from one of the most handsome men she had ever known was simply an added bonus.

Ingrid knew after a few minutes of this position that she needed to divert her attention back to Felix. Rather than have him simply replace Sylvain in his current position, however, she resolved to try something new and different, such that she might experience the full gamut of what intercourse had to offer. She dismounted Sylvain, then situated herself on her side with her back to him, allowing him to cuddle up to her and kiss her shoulders and back. She beckoned Felix to her front, then lifted her top leg to open her hole to him. He snuggled up to her on his side, then slid himself inside her.

“You feel amazing, Ingrid,” Felix said grunting and moaning as he pumped his cock inside of her. Ingrid lit up at the satisfaction she was providing for her promised.

“For once in his life, Felix is right,” Sylvain said, kissing and caressing Ingrid’s back as he did. He grinded his cock against Ingrid’s buttocks, making her feel warm and adored from both sides. She heard him spit in his hand, noticing him rub the saliva over his cock. He spat in it again, this time using it to breech her asshole with his middle finger. She soon realized what Sylvain intended, but she did not care to stop it. She braced herself as the head of his cock began to enter her ass.

Ingrid yelped as it pierced her. A sharp pain snapped at her at the point of entry, coursing through her veins and resonating throughout her body. Drops of blood spilled from her, though not at a volume she had expected as to be commensurate with her pain. She was unsure if she could continue on like this. Yet, if she were the knight she believed herself to be, she would have to endure. She could not let herself be defeated by these men. Despite her suffering, she continued fighting.

Before long, the pain had subsided. Ingrid was doing it. Somehow, she was doing it. She had found a way to truly satisfy both of the men she cared so much about at the same time. She admired the ecstasy Felix wore on his face. It was such a welcome change from the ambivalence he always insisted on conveying. Her body had that power over him. This was the Felix she could make her husband.

Meanwhile, she was also keenly aware of the effect she was having on Sylvain at the moment. She was sure that none of his conquests had ever afforded him the pleasure of anal sex. All would be too fearful of the pain or of divine retribution from Sothis. Ingrid had already overcome the former, and she did not fear condemnation from the use of her blessed body. Her asshole was beyond tight, and she could only imagine the pleasure Sylvain was deriving from pounding it with his long cock, though his moans and affirmations gave her a good sense of it.

As Ingrid thought about the effect she was having on the two gorgeous men flanking her, she realized that she had failed to fully consider the effect they were having on her. She had never considered herself to be a beauty and was generally uninterested in cosmetics, prioritizing only her basic hygiene and luscious hair. But in this moment, she was more confident in her body than ever before; her beauty had nearly destroyed a friendship and then repaired it within a span of minutes. She could not help but think about what other problems she could solve if one of the former house leaders were occupying her mouth right then. Perhaps she could lift Dimitri’s spirits and help him take his rightful place as King of Faerghus by first making him King of the Bedroom. Maybe she could forge a united front with the Leicester Alliance if she schemed to have Claude’s cunning cock between her lips. Or better yet, she could end the war altogether by burying her tongue inside Edelgard’s blasphemous twat!

She snapped back to reality, where she was just breaking off a kiss with Felix as he and Sylvain volleyed her back and forth with their thrusts. The arrangement was exhilarating as it was pleasurable, and Ingrid was starting to forget the events that had led to it. She felt like a slut through and through, and she could not be happier for it. As she realized this, she felt another peculiar phenomenon overcoming her. Her body was becoming warm, warmer than should be expected given her level of activity. Goosebumps began to dot her arms and legs in ways that she had not experienced since the day she first set foot in Garreg Mach Monastery. Her pussy was pulsating rapidly; she was drowning amidst a deluge of ecstasy. Ingrid was coming. And she was coming hard.

The orgasm lasted almost a minute. Ingrid convulsed as she came, her head and limbs flailed erratically as she attempted to process the multitude of sensations assaulting her mind and body. Felix played his part well in front of her, helping to stabilize her and continuing to go after her with the same rhythm he and Sylvain had been maintaining to this point. This functioned to prolong her ecstasy, and she felt indebted to him for it. She would have to repay the favor for him and Sylvain shortly.

After collecting herself, Ingrid turned her mind toward enacting her endgame. She placed her hand on Felix’s shoulder as to slow him down before having him gently remove himself from her. She motioned for him to stand on the floor beside the bed.

“Sylvain, on your back,” she commanded. “Felix, brace me as he turns.”

“Aye, milady,” Sylvain said with his classic snark.

At that, the men did as Ingrid instructed. Sylvain rolled backward until he was flat on his back, and Felix held Ingrid such that Sylvain remained inside her ass throughout the process. In the same motion, Felix brought the pair to the base of the bed. Facing away from Sylvain, Ingrid found her footing on the bed, gaining complete control over Sylvain’s cock. This also situated her pussy at the perfect height for the standing Felix to enter her once more.

Ingrid pushed up with her feet from her position all the way down Sylvain’s shaft, her asshole gripping at it as she did. This had the effect of pumping Felix’s cock inside her pussy in unison. Nerve endings in both holes fired pulses at Ingrid’s brain, cascading into a wave of pleasure and fulfillment. She squatted back down on Sylvain again, wiggling his member into the depths of her ass once more. Any pain she had been experiencing had completely subsided; the anal stimulation Sylvain was providing now wholly complemented the divine precision with which Felix was handling her womanhood. She rose and squatted again, taking a moment to appreciate the contours of Felix’s face as he pressed inside her. His soft cheeks had no business converging to his pointed chin, but this only made him that much more desirable. She delighted in the sexual bliss conveyed by his current expression, but she had to admit there was something uniquely arousing about his usual countenance of detachment.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Sylvain exclaimed, breaking Ingrid’s concentration. “I’m about to explode inside you!”

“Not yet,” Ingrid said, recognizing that Sylvain finishing in his current position would defeat the purpose of the exercise. “Besides, I think I am owed two orgasms, one for each of you. You’ve only managed one thus far!”

“If you keep up like this, I don’t know if I can control it!” Sylvain replied.

“Very well,” Ingrid conceded. She leaned back and placed her hands against the bed, distributing her weight across all four limbs. She relinquished control to the men, stabilizing herself in as stationary of a position as she could manage while being hammered by two cocks of their sizes. They alternated their thrusts, meaning that Ingrid was never without one of the men fully occupying one of her holes. She seized and screamed as they launched their assault on two-fronts. She was caught between a cock and a hard place, and the hard place was another cock. She loved every second of it.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take!” Sylvain cried while fondling Ingrid’s breasts. “My cock can’t handle how hot you are!”

“Don’t you dare cum, Sylvain! So help me I will have your balls if you cum in my ass right now!” Ingrid retorted in a passionate anger that could only have its origin in sex.

“I hate to admit it, but Sylvain is right,” Felix said. “Even my training does not demand this level of restraint!”

“I will have my orgasm, Felix!” Ingrid exclaimed amidst the same defiant mania with which she had reprimanded Sylvain.

Despite her madness, Ingrid realized that this arrangement could not persist. She was reducing the men to boys with her body; the poor bastards could not even hold their cum, yet she was no closer to coming herself. So she resolved to execute the final phase of her grand plan, despite how terrified she was by the prospect of it.

She moved her hand to Sylvain’s hip as to tell him to stop. He obeyed, and Ingrid straightened her arms and pushed out with her anus. Sylvain’s cock emerged from it, causing Ingrid’s tight asshole to clinch back to shape despite having been stretched for so long. Felix paused to observe, which was exactly what Ingrid needed to make her next move. She reached down to grab Sylvain’s manhood with her thumb, then wrapped her fingers around Felix’s above it. She brought them together, touching their sensitive heads and frenula to each other within her soft grip. Felix’s expression was that of discomforted pleasure. Ingrid could only surmise that he was frustrated at how pleasant the feeling of touching his cock to another was.

Both cocks in hand, she began to gingerly slide them into her pussy together. It was most painful at the point of entry, where Ingrid was the driest. But she knew that this was the only method by which she could give each of them a fair chance of impregnating her, and perhaps it would provide the necessary shock to her system for her to come again.

Once they were all the way inside of her, she again ceded control. The men resumed the alternating pattern they had been employing before, but this failed to achieve the same effect inside her pussy.

“Align yourselves,” Ingrid commanded.

The men took a moment to achieve this. Once they managed to do so, however, Ingrid reaped the benefits almost immediately. The close proximity of their gambit served to boost the sexual energy of the entire group, allowing the men to penetrate Ingrid faster and deeper than before. Each of them swore intermittently at the pleasure, and the sweats of their labors continued to make the room rank with pheromones.

Suddenly, Ingrid was beset with the same sensations that had overcome her while on her side. The goosebumps reappeared, and her pussy pulsated rapidly once more. The pleasure reached every part of her body; her knees shook, her nipples stood straight up, and even her exhausted anus throbbed within her. Try as she may, she was unable to prevent herself from breaking wind in response. She fought to maintain her position, tempted to collapse on top of Sylvain and fall immediately to sleep.

“I’m coming!” she declared in a crescendo so loud that anyone still awake in the monastery was likely to hear it. “Oh fuck, I’m coming!” she repeated through her climax as to thank the two men who had helped her achieve it.

But something was different about this orgasm. Yes, it filled her with bodily satisfaction the likes of which she had never felt before, but it was also far wetter than it had any right to be. Could they have broken something inside her and made her bleed? Did they somehow trigger her period early? Had she squirted again? Unless…

Ingrid came to her senses to witness Sylvain and Felix slowly removing themselves from her. As soon as they exited, a pool of viscous, white liquid oozed out of her, sounding a distinct _splurt_ as it did. It landed right back on Sylvain’s cock, though it was now indistinguishable from Felix’s cum. Ingrid’s pulsing pussy had managed to bring both men to climax in unison, and it was now overflowing with their semen. Ingrid quickly realized that her current position was not conducive to retaining it all, which would be utterly unacceptable given the parameters of the affair. She maneuvered herself out of the crab-like posture in which she had spent the past several minutes, lying flat on her back on the bed next to Sylvain. She brought her knees to her stomach, securing them in place by extending her arm in a bar underneath them. This made gravity her ally, trapping the cocktail of cum inside her.

“You were incredible, Ingrid,” Sylvain managed to say as he caught his breath.

“Not too bad,” remarked Felix, with self-effacing sarcasm.

“Anything for you two,” Ingrid responded authentically in her always dulcet tones. Even after everything she had been through that evening, she still managed to carry herself with her signature grace and charm. “Now each of you to your rooms, lest rumors spread about the monastery.”

The men dressed and made for the door. Ingrid, now secure in the idea that their cum was safely inside her, put on her nightgown and saw them out. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Annette making her way back from the bathroom. She would reflect on this moment a few weeks later, when an utterly unfounded rumor spread that Felix and Sylvain were an item. Had Annette seen them walking back to their rooms and failed to notice the room from which they had emerged? Perhaps, though it was equally possible that the rumor was simply a byproduct of some familiar wench’s wishful thinking.

Ingrid returned to bed once she was confident that the men had safely returned to their rooms. She was fatigued, tired, exhausted, and sleepy after an hour of sex with the two men, but she was content. She imagined her tits overflowing with milk and her belly swelling up with a beautiful Fraldarius or Gautier heir. Surely one of their seeds would take. She did not care which, only that she and she alone had made the choice to bear a child. The sudden realization of the consequences that might accompany it was sobering, but, in that moment, she only cared to think about the extent to which she had sobered in the wake of the marathon and how grateful she was for having facilitated it. Thankfully, there was still enough wine in her to allow her to doze off to sleep, dreaming of the joys of motherhood…


End file.
